The Great Cold Distance
by Juliette Louise
Summary: With Starkiller Base destroyed, the First Order is plunged into chaos. Kylo Ren is pulled into a dangerous game by Valen, his Master's trusted Sentinel, learning in the process that the iron chain and the silken cord are both equally bonds. (Ren/lady OC) (rated for tone, violence, eventual naughtiness)
1. Prologue

His quarters were dim and silent, and the narcotic cocktail in his veins should have put him under for hours. Should have at least stilled his thoughts, dulled his perceptions enough to allow him sleep.

But there was no rest for Kylo Ren. He lay in his narrow cot and waited, listening to the hum of the deck-plating and the ringing in his ears and the jumbled, fearful thoughts of the small crew. He should have stopped the unlucky storm trooper who'd attended to him from administering pain suppressants, as agony would have at least given him something to focus on.

He looked inward with the Force, perceiving clearly the gaping wound beneath his ribs, the ragged edges of torn muscle, the splintered bottom rib. Pieces of bone and shrapnel. A punctured lung.

His father's pet Wookie had given him that souvenir, sending a bowcaster bolt through his torso, punching a hole that was large enough to put two fingers in. And the girl, Rey, had marked his face with her own prominent reminder. The storm trooper had at least been able to tend to that, painting the flesh with bacta and gluing the worst of it back together. He wasn't vain enough to bemoan a scar, even one that practically bisected his face, but the thought of constantly seeing a reminder of this failure wasn't a thought he relished. A reminder that some girl, a gutter rat from Jakku, had actually bested him in single combat. Punctured lung or no, it was a blow to his ego. The familiar co-mingling of anger and shame rose again, simmering in the pit of his ravaged belly.

Still, recent events had included some successes. Solo's death ended a grudge he'd been holding for the better part of his 30 years.

So where was his sense of accomplishment? It turned out there was little satisfaction in luring a sad old man to his death, even if that man _was_ Han Solo. Han Solo, half of the reason for his existence and the entire cause of his weakness. The man who'd diluted the powerful Skywalker blood. Who was revered by the fledgling New Republic but failed, in every way, to live up to that reputation.

He thought he'd feel pride, relief, at the death of the man, but instead he felt...nothing.

* * *

He must have lapsed into sleep at some point, because the sound of the docking clamps locking onto the command shuttle startled him awake. They had finally arrived onboard _Shadow One_ , Snoke's flagship. Reaching out through the Force, past the metal bulkheads and the chatter of so many minds, he could feel Snoke himself, his tightly-leashed anger. His impatience.

Withdrawing, he cast his awareness elsewhere, finding General Hux with ease. The wretched man had no Force sensitivity, but his mind was still powerful, like the proverbial steel trap. If a steel trap was capable of being smug and self-important. Soon he would bring him to Snoke, the good soldier, the valiant rescuer of the Master's apprentice.

Moving again, he could feel the troops disembarking, their thoughts stormy, frantic even. Starkiller Base's sudden destruction had plunged the entire organization into chaos. Scores were dead, more were missing.

Moments stretched into minutes. He wondered what the delay was. He'd expected Hux to appear in his doorway at any moment, ready to haul him off to see his Master, and if he was lucky, a medic. But it didn't happen.

Eventually Ren steeled himself, pushing himself upright on his elbows. There was no point in prolonging things.

He'd only just succeeded in standing when a sound rattled through the ship. It sounded very much like the docking clamps letting go. Then he heard the thrusters come back online, felt a pop of surprise outside in the hangar. Gritting his teeth against pain and nausea, he walked to the door. It was locked. From the _outside_.

Fresh adrenaline washed over him. Something was seriously wrong. He put both bare palms on the cool metal, concentrating. Outside, he felt nothing. Either the command shuttle was currently piloting itself, or the hijacker was using the Force to shield themselves from his notice.

Never one for subtlety, Kylo Ren pulled his lightsaber into his hand and went to work on the blast door.


	2. The Shadow Hand and the Sentinel

Valen's fingers flew over the keys of the nav computer, manually punching in long strings of co-ordinates from memory. The computer beeped softly when she was finished, but without the linkup to the _Shadow_ she had no way of knowing if the vectors were correct. One digit off, and it was entirely possible that she would exit hyperspace in the heart of, oh, a supernova. Or the hot center of a planet.

That would be one solution to her problem, though not the preferred one.

Klaxons went off overhead. Valen's gaze snapped up just in time to see a TIE interceptor barreling toward her, cannons blazing. She threw her weight against the yoke, teeth clenched, one hand trying to bring the hyperdrive all the way online. The shuttle dropped almost vertically, her stomach lurching for the barest moment before the artificial gravity could compensate. More alarms sounded. Three more fighters coming up fast.

The command shuttle just wasn't made for this sort of maneuvering, she thought in a detached sort of way, as two explosive rounds slammed into the starboard thrusters. She pulled up sharply, leveling out and pushing the throttle in as far as it would go. The damaged thruster blew, but it was too late to stop. Around her, the distant points of stars turned to streaks as the hyperdrive finally engaged.

Valen pulled in a breath, blood pounding in her ears. For a dizzying moment there was only light and the slight sensation of motion, then just as quickly, it was over. The shuttle lurched as it dropped out of lightspeed, reappearing in empty, silent space.

She sat back limply, allowing herself to breathe again. She realized that alarms were going off. She shut down the propulsion system. The starboard thruster was a big concern, but Valen permitted herself a moment of exhilaration.

Then, from behind her, a familiar voice spoke.

"What exactly are you doing?"

* * *

Kylo Ren didn't raise his voice. In fact, his words were quiet, his intonation flat. Valen's body tensed but she didn't show it. Her carefully built mental shields would keep her fear from reaching him. She took a breath, centered herself for the barest moment, then spun in her chair.

He was leaning against the doorframe, tall and broad of shoulder but almost uncomfortably wiry. His face (which she'd seldom seen) was marked by a long angry fissure that reached from one temple to the other side of his jaw. His skin was ashy, his eyes shadowed. His hair was limp with sweat and what might have been blood. The infamous lightsaber hung from his belt, against one hip.

Valen stood, putting one fist across her chest and looking at the ground in an abbreviated bow.

"My Lord. Please forgive the disruption." She said, making her voice low and smooth even as her mind roiled. He was injured- badly, from the looks of him- but even a grievously wounded Kylo Ren was impossibly frightening. Even if his body was in _pieces_ , she had seen what he could do to someone with his mind.

Her pulse started to pound again in her ears, but her mental shields held, strong from many years of avoiding Snoke's probing. She kept her eyes on his boots, hoping she merely appeared submissive.

"Look at me." He said, his voice low and dangerous.

She looked up into his face, concentrating hard. His eyes were narrowed slightly, though his stance was still casual. Arms crossed over his chest, his weight was on one foot and the shoulder he leaned into the doorway.

"Why exactly is Snoke's Sentinel piloting the-"

Valen pulled the Force in around her, crossing the room in one smooth stride and angling herself forward, putting a shoulder into Ren's stomach with all the power she could muster.

Time seemed to slow, as it always did in moments of mortal terror.

Her momentum took him off his feet. White-hot pain crackled off of him for the barest moment before his barriers came back down.

But Ren was head-and-shoulders taller than her and he was _solid_. The impact nearly threw her off balance, and she narrowly and ungracefully ducked under his fist.

He hit the ground hard but wasn't down for long. Snarling, he brought the Force to bear, driving the wind right out of her lungs and closing her consciousness off from inside her skull. His power was extraordinary, his energy raw and vital and only barely controlled. It skittered across her skin like electricity, blackness threatening to shallow her vision.

Most would have been instantly unconscious, even most Force sensitives, but Valen was very practiced at countering attacks like this. She closed the distance between them, lashing out with the heel of her hand. He leaned away from the blow effortlessly, still concentrating on snuffing her mind out like a candle. She pushed against him with her shoulder again, trying to drive him off balance. She could not let him push her into a defensive role.

His concentration faltered for long enough for her to rally, push him out of her mind. For a millisecond they grappled while she gulped air. Though she'd known him, or at least known of him for years, she'd never gotten anywhere near the man. He smelled like blood and sweat and cordite, and his breath was hot and ragged. The eyes that locked with hers were darkest brown, bloodshot and slightly wild. It would have been better if she hated him the way she hated Snoke- hate would have given her power. But she didn't hate him. As Snoke's apprentice he most likely got as much abuse as she did. He was merely an obstacle to overcome.

Kylo Ren's mental shields were strong, but she didn't need the Force to find his weak spots. He was leading with his left shoulder and Ren was right-handed.

She reached across him. He was expecting her to go for his lightsaber, but instead she jammed a thumb, hard, into the bundle of nerves between his clavicle and shoulder. She was surprised when the flesh actually _gave_ _way_ under her thumb with a soft pop. Ren gasped and almost folded up, catching himself, and her wrist, at the last possible moment.

He put her arm behind her back smoothly, and Valen felt the ball and socket joint in her shoulder separate. Pain lit up her whole right side from jaw to hip, her arm instantly useless. Pushing his advantage, he kicked her legs out from under her, putting her on her knees on the metal floor.

It would have all been over for her if he'd remained standing, but from behind her she heard him sink onto one knee. Maybe he was trying to speak into her ear, or maybe his body was too damaged to allow him to stand, but Valen wasn't interested in finding out. She threw her head back, and was rewarded with a solid _crunch_ as his nose broke. Then his hand left her wrist, and he tipped over backwards without so much as a whimper.

* * *

Her ears rang, but otherwise the cabin was silent. The whole scuffle had taken less than a minute.

She looked out the viewscreen of the shuttle. They were drifting in emptiness, Manaan in the distance, hanging in the blackness like a blue-green gem, and its star beyond.

Content that they were not in imminent danger, she turned her attention to Kylo Ren.

She knew he wasn't dead- ironically, now that he was out cold and his shields were down she could feel him in the Force. She slid closer on her knees, holding her elbow against her side.

He was sprawled out on the ground, long limbs akimbo. She wrenched the lightsaber off of his belt and tossed it away, realizing as she did that he was bleeding out all over the damned floor. Not only that, but every shallow breath that passed his lips brought up more frothy blood.

She put her ear against his warm chest, already knowing what she would hear. His right chest whistled and sloshed, each breath pushing his punctured lung closer to collapse.

"Fuck. _Fuck_." Valen said aloud. She had no time for this. It was a big galaxy, but the First Order was in enough sectors that it hardly mattered. She'd had no intention of killing Ren; it had been her intention to use his presence to ensure that the Order wouldn't simply obliterate her before the ship left the hangar. He was _supposed_ to be locked in his quarters, heavily sedated.

She stood, hearing her knees crackle in protest, and went to work on the console.


	3. Masks

Luke Skywalker, last Jedi that was and ever would be, secluded himself in the _Falcon_ 's aft quarters. He'd slept here before, whenever the situation called for his long-term presence onboard. First, in those impossibly long-ago days before the Empire had crumbled. Last, when Han and Leia came for him after the destruction of the enclave on Yavin 4. After his greatest failure, and the beginning of their greatest sorrow.

The cramped cabin didn't feel like the _Falcon_ used to. She had passed through too many hands after her theft. Any of Han's personal effects that might have been here were long gone. Any hint of his vital essence, his imprint on his beloved ship, was lost.

Luke sat cross-legged on his cot, trying to will his mind to silence. He could have went to the common area, talked more with Chewbacca and the young woman, Rey, but the idea wasn't appealing. His calm felt like it could break at any moment, and if so he preferred that no one was around to see.

Han's loss was too great to comprehend, much like the recent destruction of entire worlds by the First Order. He was numb. He couldn't even weep for them.

Luke reached for his sister's mind, across the many miles that separated them. Leia's sadness was exquisite, but he could tell she'd already pushed it down deep. Some said Leia's fierce resolve was the result of a youth spent with diplomats and politicians by day and private tutors at night, but Luke knew differently. Leia's incredible toughness, her drive, was something that would have been present if she'd been adopted by beggars instead of the Organa dynasty. Her life had been replete with hardship and loss, but she never wavered. She was stronger than even she knew. Stronger than anyone should ever have to be.

For a moment, Luke remembered a boy with wide-set brown eyes, dark hair, and a fierce independence. Willful and stubborn and perhaps a little _too_ bright- in other words, very much his mother's child. Luke hadn't known his sister as a child, but when little Ben's personality started to bloom, it felt like a little window into her young life, too.

 _Take off that mask, you don't need it._ Han had apparently shouted, only moments before he was lost to silence. He'd been addressing Ben, the son he still believed was hidden somewhere. Unfortunately, there were many different kinds of masks. Luke was now forced to conclude that Kylo Ren was Han's true son, that Ben Solo had been the façade.

Luke opened his eyes.

If he couldn't silence his mind, at least he should have been thinking of the war...but for some reason his family's tragedies and bloodshed were inexplicably linked.

His sister's son was too dangerous, too damaged, to be rehabilitated. Luke would eventually need to face him, and if he could, kill him. Even if it invalidated his life's mission. Even if he earned Leia's eternal hatred.

Even if, in doing so, he destroyed himself.

When he'd processed all of the events he'd been absent for, he would speak to the girl from Jakku. The idealistic stranger, a nascent Force user who'd tracked him halfway across the galaxy, believing he would set everything right again. She'd been in Kylo Ren's mind, albeit briefly, and as such was a powerful resource. That, and she had seen his face, the last one to do so who still lived.

Perhaps through her he could see the face of a boy he'd once loved, even if that face had always been just a mask.

* * *

She'd halfway solved the problem when the whistling of Kylo Ren's lungs became audible from across the room.

 _Of course the man can't just quietly bleed to death,_ she thought, typing angrily.

There were backup thrusters on each wing but, predictably, they weren't responding. Valen ran another diagnostic. She wished fervently that machines were as easily manipulated as people.

From behind her, Kylo Ren's body coughed reflexively. He was drowning in his own vital fluids, slowly, on dry land. Yes, this would have been easier if she hated the man. There were many men she hated, some of whom she'd gone on to kill later. Hate was easy and comfortable, and best of all, it required no self-reflection whatsoever. It was clean and tidy and unambiguous.

But she didn't hate this man.

From behind her, Ren gasped desperately.

Snarling, Valen went to stand over his still form. He might have been sleeping if it wasn't for all the blood, eyes lightly closed, lashes dark on his cheeks. His face, though not handsome in a _conventional_ sense, was nevertheless...appealing. Almost gentle. Thoughtful. Younger than she knew he really was. It was a face that belonged on a different man- a philosopher perhaps, or an artist. Certainly not on a killer- or a corpse.

Sentinel Valen pushed up the sleeves of her robes, cursing herself and the last tiny speck of compassion that bitter experience hadn't yet destroyed.

* * *

Kylo Ren woke again, this time to complete darkness and a head full of disjointed memories. His face throbbed with every beat of his heart, and his chest felt like someone was sitting on it.

He remembered Solo's death, and the fight on Starkiller Base. He remembered troopers dragging him onto the command shuttle while the ground underneath them groaned and shuddered. He remembered awaiting Snoke's judgement in his quarters, and then...

 _Ah yes._

Then he'd been bested in single combat. Again. And survived. Again. If he wasn't so confused, he'd have been mortified.

There were cold metal bands around his wrists that felt very much like stormtrooper's restraints. Moving gingerly, he discovered that he was cuffed to the wall on one side and the floor on the other.

His body still hurt, though nowhere near as much as it should have. And each breath made his chest burn and ache, but he _was_ breathing. He shuddered, remembering the sensation of his punctured lung, in the heavy darkness of his quarters. And that was before the Sentinel smashed into it with all her might.

Ren tested his shoulder, the one that had been slashed open with a lightsaber and more recently reopened by Valen's well-placed blow. In the last moments he remembered from before waking here, he'd been bleeding like a stuck pig. Now he was merely sore.

Then a sliver of light appeared from behind him, grew slowly wider as the metal door swung open.

"I know you can kill me with a thought, Kylo Ren." Valen said quietly, smoothly. He blinked, deliberately remaining still and silent, waiting.

"But before you do, I would have you hear my words."

He waited again while she circled over to stand beside him. With a moment's concentration, he unlatched the restraints, which fell with a soft clatter.

The face that came into view was looking at him with unconcealed amazement, and a little resignation. He met her eyes.

"Why would I do that?" He murmured coolly.

Valen, Snoke's trusted attendant, a mysterious figure he'd glimpsed only at a distance, shrugged.

"You must be at least a little curious as to what this was all about."

There was truth to that. He sat up carefully, just looking at her. He gestured silently, and she sat opposite him, holding one arm close to her body.

Valen, still in white robes stained with his blood, let out a breath, daring to make prolonged eye contact. Her face, up close, was younger than he'd thought. He'd always assumed that Snoke's Sentinel was older than he, but he'd also never been permitted to get anywhere near her. Her eyes were wide-set and light, more grey than green, and the long hair that fell around her was straight, more ashy than blonde. Between that, her white vestments, and the pallor of someone who'd spent her life on a starship, she looked slightly otherworldly- like the washed-out image of a woman instead of one in the flesh.

She licked pale, full lips, and Ren knew suddenly why Snoke had kept him away from her.

"I've plotted my escape for some time, but taking your command shuttle was a snap decision. I was told you were injured, unconscious. I knew the Order wouldn't shoot down a transport with you in it. I hoped to get to some backwater spaceport and be gone before you came around."

"Then off to find your Republic friends, I suppose?"

She snorted derisively, but her expression didn't change.

"I have no friends among the Republic. They would use me to achieve their own goals, just as Snoke did."

"Why the dramatic escape, then?" He said caustically. He'd slept for only a handful of the last 48 hours and was in no mood for any of this.

"I want the right to self-determination. I'm done with this war. I'm done being Snoke's plaything. I want to go far away and never be seen or heard from again."

She'd said she had accepted her death, but now Kylo Ren could hear that that wasn't true. He could hear pleading behind her words. An edge of desperation somewhere beneath her cool demeanor. He could also tell that she was hiding something.

"You can heal with the Force." He said. It wasn't a question. "That's forbidden knowledge. It's also quite a process. Why waste your lead time on keeping me alive?"

She looked away, scowling.

"Not all of us see the world in such unambiguous terms, Kylo Ren. I saved your life because it was in my power to do so, and I have no particular desire to see you dead."

"Mmm. So you don't hate me along with my Master?"

"Of course not. You're his prisoner just as I am. You just wear different chains."

She held his gaze with cool grey eyes, but he saw her throat move as she swallowed reflexively.

"I won't beg, Knight of Ren. Kill me or let me go on my way." She said steadily.

They sat silently together for a long moment, while the decision lingered in the air. But neither option felt especially satisfying. He let out a long breath.

"Letting me live was a lapse in judgement, Sentinel." Kylo Ren said wearily, and without so much as a gesture he reached into her mind and switched it off like a light.

Valen sagged until she toppled onto the cold floor, unconscious but very much alive. Master Snoke would appreciate him hauling her back in one piece. Maybe enough to assuage some of his anger about Starkiller Base.

"A serious lapse in judgement." He said again, sighing and pushing pale hair away from her face. "One I hope you'll live to regret."


	4. The Comfort of Ghosts

The next few days was devoted mostly to damage control. Starkiller Base's demise had happened so quickly, not all personnel had successfully evacuated. Lists were published every day of those presumed dead, requests for information. Data had been preserved, for the most part, but the loss of supplies and equipment was quite a blow. And leadership of the First Order had to be shuffled around a bit.

Kylo Ren observed all the political maneuvering with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. At least General Hux and his newly-inflated ego were too busy to get in the way. Or to gloat about hauling his unconscious form off the Base before it was obliterated.

He'd given sleep a try, but as usual rest was illusive. Eventually he'd left his cot, splashed water on his face, and sat down to meditate. As a child, shuffled from city to city, he could never sleep because of the tangle of psychic noise he was constantly bombarded with. When he became old enough to articulate this, maybe four or five, Skywalker came back from Yavin 4 for long enough to try to feel out his Force sensitivity. And to teach him to meditate. It wasn't a substitute for sleep but at least he began to get a handle on his abilities.

Among other things, Kylo Ren was very, very good at getting into people's heads. Master Snoke appreciated this ability, cultivated it, and utilized it often. In the last fifteen years he'd become the Order's best and most feared interrogator. When torture failed, it was generally Ren who took over. This also tended to ruin his sleep.

And meditation wasn't cutting it.

He stood stiffly, redressed, and started out toward the detention area.

Snoke had _not_ ordered him to do this, in fact the old bastard had done his best to keep the entire incident under wraps. He had only said that Sentinel Valen was in reconditioning. No one dared to remind their Supreme Leader that desertion was usually a capital offense.

Snoke wanted her alive. If reconditioning was successful, she would live. That should have been the end of the story, as far as he was concerned.

But something had been nagging at him. Something to do with the faint scars on his body that should have been fatal wounds. The sensation that he _owed_ someone something made his skin crawl. So did a mystery he couldn't solve.

The reconditioning wing was active, even at this hour. He supposed that Starkiller Base being obliterated had been demoralizing for the stormtroopers, as they were mostly unable to see the bigger picture. And Captain Phasma was not very tolerant of those with subpar morale.

He found the right room easily enough, unlocked it with a thought, and strode in.

The psych officer attending dropped whatever crude instrument he was menacing her with and visibly blanched.

"My Lord. What-ah, I didn't realize Supreme Leader assigned you to this case." He stammered.

Under the faceplate of his mask, Kylo Ren rolled his eyes.

Valen was restrained, upright on the table. Her head lolled, hair falling over her face. He looked down at the officer, drawing the moment out.

"I don't need an assignment." Ren said, very quietly. "Leave."

The ridiculous man gave him a curt bow and very speedily departed. When the door hissed closed he stepped closer to the prisoner.

A gloved hand pushed hair out of her face, then went under her chin, tilting her face upward. This would have been nicer if the room wasn't so bright. And if the gloved hand belonged to someone other than Ren. His mask was slightly out of focus but she heard his voice loud and clear. He stooped to retrieve something from the floor.

"Sodium Pentathal?" He said, dubiously, looking at a spent injection capsule. "Are they trying to interrogate you, or put you to sleep?"

"Neither."

"Oh?"

Valen tried to look up at Kylo Ren's masked face- or failing that, at least in his general direction, but couldn't quite manage it. He propped her head up with his gloved hand again.

"They need...belief...my belief." She murmured, then stopped, unsure if she'd spoken aloud or just thought it.

The mask was expressionless, of course, and Ren's mind was behind the psychic equivalent of a steel bulkhead. She knew that there was a man at the center of all the various armor, but he was totally inscrutable. An unknown quantity. And she had already failed to predict his actions once...with disastrous consequences.

"You're going to have to elaborate on that statement." He said dryly.

Valen shivered. Ren was not supposed to be here, yet he was. No one was monitoring this situation, and even if they were, he could still act with complete impunity. But though her mind was working feverishly, it couldn't quite get her body in on the act.

"Just take it. I...can't." She said, resigned.

Ren just stared at her for a moment, then released her chin and stepped away. She heard the _snap-hiss_ of his helmet depressurizing, and when he returned to her sight, his mask and gloves were gone.

He took her face in one hand again, looking at her evenly. His eyes weren't as dark as she'd thought before. Now, under bright artificial light, they were more hazel-gold, like tea at the bottom of a cup. They were pretty, and probably would have been expressive...had he been interested in expressing anything.

"Have it your way." He said, giving her the barest shrug.

She held his gaze, trembling in spite of herself. Then, slowly, a feeling started at the base of her skull, sliding down her spine and up to her scalp, tingling, but not unpleasantly. She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to push back against the invasion. If she resisted, he would still get what he wanted. Only then he would tear it forcefully from her mind. Kylo Ren was well known for doing so.

 _Why did Snoke let you live? Why did he send you here?_

His words floated past her like a warm breeze. She was surprised by how pleasant this was. She could feel his Force signature all around her. He was calmer than before, focused, fatigued. For a moment she could feel both his hand on her face and was the owner of that hand.

 _Watch yourself, Sentinel. I don't have to be gentle._

She pulled back, a little shaken. She recalled a saying from her youth: Gaze into the abyss, and the abyss gazes into you.

 _Focus!_

Yes. Focus.

Snoke let her live because needed her, or at the very least he needed to keep her from falling into the New Republic's hands. Why...well, that would take some explaining.

She'd been born on Dantooine, the only daughter of a congressional page, in the capital city. Millennia before, Dantooine had played a disproportionately large role in the Jedi Civil War, most of it being ravaged in the process. A backwater outer rim world, her citizens carried a collective grudge against devotees of the Force, though none had been seen anywhere for years.

Her powers manifested early, but were unnoticed or brushed off until she developed a talent for manipulating people. She often came to congressional sessions with her mother, and when she did, the motions she supported suddenly started to pass. Even the lost causes.

She didn't know it, but she was unconsciously utilizing a rare and powerful ability, one that sent ripples through the Force like a pebble dropped in still water.

Snoke caught up with her soon after.

Valen skimmed the next few years, feeling no desire to show Kylo Ren this part of her past, or indeed to remember it herself. Suffice to say, eventually she came out on the other side stronger. Her body was a weapon and her mind was something even more frightening.

Ancient Jedi had called her talent "battle meditation". A practitioner could boost moral, inspire devotion, even turn the tide of a battle. She could plant discontent in the minds that would lead an uprising, or induce malaise and hopelessness that would take one apart. She could draw upon the Force to influence the very tides of war.

Such a thing hadn't been seen for millennia, and couldn't be found in anyone since, though the Order tried.

Snoke kept a watchful eye on her, manipulated her with pain and fear and humiliation when necessary, and sometimes when it wasn't.

But Valen had been a young adult when she was taken- the Order and it's dogma wasn't all she'd ever known. She killed for Snoke, and even believed in his cause at times, but she never felt like anything but his servant.

There was another shiver along her spine, when with a dizzying feeling he released her. She opened her eyes.

Kylo Ren took his hand from her face, but by this time she could at least hold her head up. He was looking at her intently, studying her, a faint flush across his cheeks. Finally he looked away.

"So, Snoke wishes to continue...utilizing you if at all possible. And if you can't be persuaded to use your powers for him, he'll kill you to keep you out of enemy hands."

Valen didn't respond. She didn't have anything to add, really.

"If you're such a valuable asset, why hasn't Snoke used me to aid in your 'rehabilitation'? I do all the high priority psych work."

She snorted.

"Too dangerous...too many...subversive things in my head."

"Does anyone else know about this?" He asked, turning back to her, eyes narrowed.

"Of course not. He would...look..."

"...weak." He finished for her, then walked away, circling around the table until he was out of her line of sight. She fidgeted.

"Well, that's one mystery solved." He said flatly, circling back to stand in front of her. "But I ask again: if you were so desperate to escape in the command shuttle, why did you stop to heal me?"

She rolled her eyes over to him.

"I told you. I have...no desire...to see you dead."

"I don't believe you. You're a traitor and you've engineered this from the start. You're trying to...compromise me, pull me into your little mutiny, or both. It won't work." He said, his deep voice turning harder.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach.

"No. No! I..." She got out, before he dove back into her mind. This time, he was not gentle.

* * *

"...And though Starkiller Base's destruction was an important victory, this is no time to rest on our laurels. We must press our advantage, keep the Order on the defensive. General Cresida and myself have compiled a list of probable supply routes. In the coming days, our goal will be to disrupt the Order's acquisition of weapons, ammunition, and bacta. Intelligence agents will be dispatched first; if they find evidence of First Order activity, we'll get boots on the ground."

Leia's eyes swept the little amphitheater. The faces that looked back at her were earnest and serious. And very young. War had always been a game for the young.

"Questions?" She asked. No one stirred.

"Very well. Thank you, everyone. Dismissed."

A few dozen people stood, murmuring, and began to meander out of the command center. She caught a few glancing back at her as they left. There could have been sympathy on their faces, but she wasn't sure.

She walked off the dais, boots clicking softly on polished stone.

Luke stood. R2-D2's "eye" swiveled to look up at him as he did, whistling and clicking.

"This reminds him of 'old times', apparently." Luke gave her a tiny smile.

"He's not the only one." She said dryly, in the millisecond before she remembered who was missing from this little reunion. She returned his smile but it felt hollow. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes, thank you." Luke was lying but she didn't push it.

"Good." She cleared her throat, inexplicably emotional. Luke had been gone for close to ten years, but it looked like he'd aged twenty. His blue eyes had new wrinkles around them, and his hair was almost totally gray now, but that wasn't it. Luke had always carried a lot on his shoulders, she shouldn't have been surprised that it was finally weighing him down.

"You should take some time, Leia. The war can go on without you for a few days."

They started walking, Artoo rolling quietly after them.

"I'd rather not."

They exited into the courtyard of the old temple. The Resistance had tidied up the site a little, fixed the flagstones, even gotten an ancient fountain to run again. All this, only a few days after a full evacuation of their base on D'Qar and a hasty, disorganized relocation. She sat on the side of the fountain, blinking up into the light.

Rey, Chewie, and Artoo had returned late last night, Luke in tow. Then they'd all stayed up even later, discussing what they knew. She'd gotten only a few hours of fitful sleep followed by an early morning. She seemed to remember this sort of thing being easier at twenty-one.

"Theria's a lot nicer than some other places we've camped out. Jungle predators aren't even much of a problem. Hate those big orange millipedes, though." She said as he sat beside her. He took her hand.

They sat in companionable silence, listening to the warbling of distant birds. They'd been doing that a lot. They didn't speak about Han, or Ben. They didn't need to. Even though Luke had to be filled with internal turmoil his presence was reassuring. And reassurance was something she didn't get often.

"I'm...going to start working with Rey. She's too powerful to be walking around untrained. And it's very likely the Order will come after her again."

Leia nodded.

"I know. You don't have to make a case to me, Luke." She said flatly. He was thinking about the last time he'd taken a student and that was better left in the past.

In any case, there really wasn't much of a choice.

* * *

Rey lugged an air purifier over one shoulder and a mini generator over the other. She didn't understand the intricacies of strategy, wasn't much of a spy, and until recently had never even fired a blaster. But she was very good at carrying gear and setting it up.

Little BB-8 rolled along behind her, warbling happily.

They'd been to see Finn earlier in the newly-christened infirmary. Though he was still in an induced coma, his coloring looked better. She remembered how unnatural and sort of...waxy...he had looked in those first few hours. Like a corpse.

Rey shuddered and dismissed the thought. Finn was alright. Soon he would be allowed to wake. And boy, would they have a lot of catching up to do.

"No, I'm not sure where-" she pitched her voice lower, "Master Skywalker is. And I'm not sure him being here isn't some sort of secret."

They reached a huge, high-ceilinged chamber that would eventually be a dormitory. At the moment, it wasn't much more than a collection of crates and boxes and cots illuminated by sunlight- which unfortunately was coming in through the holes in the ceiling.

Rey grabbed a tripod light and started wiring it up to the generator. Poor BB-8 was an astromech droid with no mission to help fly, but he seemed determined to help. He coasted around, inspecting the cartons of supplies, giving her his running commentary as he did.

"Where's Poe this morning?" She asked, firing up the generator. He clicked and whistled, rolling back over.

"Well, we can't all be early risers." She observed. Rey had no idea what time it was on Jakku, but a combination of excitement and jangled nerves had propelled her out of her cot the instant the suns rose over Theria.

"Can I help?" A voice said from behind them. BB-8 made a surprised little blat. Rey whipped around to see Luke Skywalker standing in the doorway.

Luke had dispensed with his Jedi robes in favor of "civilian" garb, mostly grey and drab green. His lightsaber was probably on him somewhere, but that somewhere wasn't his hip. He gave her a half-smile, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. This man was a legend made flesh, the man who defeated Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader, the last scion of the Jedi. In the space of a few days she'd gone from thinking he was a fanciful story to being on a first name basis with him.

BB-8 rolled into her calf gently, prompting her.

"Ah. Yes! Of course! I figured getting some power going in here was a good first step."

"Sounds like a plan." He said, and started setting up more lights


	5. Nuances

D'Qar was more-or-less picked clean by the time they got there. Phasma accompanied, keeping a close eye on her soldiers. A man under her command had recently gone _spectacularly_ rogue and then, to boot, captured her for a brief embarrassing moment. She had a lot to prove, and her already brusque demeanor was even pricklier than before. He didn't envy the troopers on that mission.

He probably wouldn't have gone himself, but until a site for a new base could be found he was quartered on the _Shadow One_. And there was only so much training and meditation one person could do.

Night shift had just rotated on by the time they docked. They'd salvaged a few pieces of tech that could be analyzed, but that would take hours- if not days. The only option was to continue waiting.

Kylo Ren was not a very patient man. When he was troubled he kept busy, when he was troubled and there was nothing to keep busy with...people tended to give him a very wide berth.

Phasma was the only one who could stand up to the sheer force of his annoyance, probably because she had her own to occupy her.

"07:00 hours." She said, her words clipped and crisp. "You will _not_ be late."

Stormtroopers began loading out, probably eager to get some rack time between now and then. When they were gone she spoke again.

"Supreme Leader will not be pleased." She observed.

"Supreme Leader is rarely pleased. I'll report to him in the morning with our findings. Or lack thereof."

Phasma only nodded curtly, but he could feel her relief.

Kylo Ren left the command shuttle, then the docking bay, passing the detention area resolutely.

Finally in his own quarters, he stripped off his armor. The space was messy, or at least as messy as a nearly-empty room could be. His desk was covered in tools and components and blueprints. His bed was unmade, and several ancient manuscripts lay open on the floor. He dropped his mask atop the other pieces of armor on his desk, running a hand through his sweaty hair, then dragged himself off to the shower.

Under very hot water, his muscles finally began to relax. He splashed water on his face.

 _His face was relaxed and peaceful. He could have been sleeping if not for all the blood._

Unbidden, Valen's thoughts slithered through his mind. Echoes of other minds, ones he'd delved into, sometimes came back to him- for a time, anyway. And he was finding out now that the effect was amplified when the person in question was also Force sensitive.

Ren shivered involuntary, but didn't try to tamp the thought down. He knew from experience that that only made it worse.

 _His face was younger than she'd expected, very angular, but softened by longish dark hair. She was surprised by his appearance, he looked more like an academic than a hardened killer. It would lose her some time, but that lead wasn't worth listening to a man drown in his own blood._

 _She sat cross-legged on the floor by his head, putting the heels of her hands into temples. Jaw tight, blew out a breath, angry and on the edge of panic. With every moment the Order drew closer._

 _But Kylo Ren was running out of moments._

 _She lifted his head and slid it into her lap. Vibrant red blood stood out against his skin. She put her hands on his face. His skin was cold and clammy, the sounds coming from his lungs made her grimace._

 _Valen put her head back, closed her eyes, focused. She sank into the Force, like stepping into a pool of warm water. It surrounded them both, even here in the depths of space. The Force streamed off of newborn stars, filling emptiness with wild and vital energy. It erupted forth when old stars died, collapsing in on themselves in a spectacular dying display that would go on for millennia._

 _It was a current that ran through all life in a never ending cycle of birth, tenuous life, and death. The Force was beyond good and evil, beyond all the ephemeral strife and conflict of a turbulent universe. Her life meant nothing, and also everything. The spark that lit her mind and pumped through her veins had also ignited supernova and devoured worlds._

The memory broke, and once again he was in his shower, standing in a stream of now lukewarm water.

She'd been telling the truth, and it haunted him. It was a moment's compassion- for _him_ , of all fucking people. Then she'd thrown herself on his mercy not once, but twice. The first time, he handed her back to the First Order. The second, when she'd willingly let him into her mind, he savaged her.

He turned the water off and went to bed, his mind roiling, his teeth on edge. Guilt was a useless emotion, the meaningless byproduct of conviction. It wasn't something he had time for.

On the other hand, a woman- an appealing woman, incidentally- gave him her trust and he'd responded in the worst conceivable way. Twice.

The New Republic's shills would say that trust and honor were foreign concepts to the Order, but they were wrong. A massive organization like theirs could have never gotten off the ground without some degree of genuine cooperation. The ancient Sith whom he studied had a complex code of conduct. They emphasized the individual, but likewise, the Sith could have never swept the galaxy if they did nothing but squabble and stab each other in the proverbial back.

Besides, that was what politicians were for.

Kylo Ren threw an arm over his face in the darkness. His body was exhausted, but his mind, as ever, was more than happy to be awake. The deck plating hummed softly, as it always did on ships of this size. It was a sound he had come to associate strongly with restlessness loneliness.

He remembered, this time of his own volition, another moment he'd plucked from Valen's mind.

 _She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting Kylo Ren's "abilities" to feel like, but pleasant certainly wasn't it. His energy suffused her, warm and vital and unique to him. With his shields down she could delve into his psyche- not in the way he could see into her, certainly, but a mental link ran both ways. At least for a fellow Force sensitive._

 _It was just as before, when she'd used the Force to heal him. Kylo Ren was a live wire, a tangle of warring thoughts and intense emotion. His connection to the Force was intrinsic, instinctual, as natural as breathing. She felt a fierce intelligence at constant war with dogma, ideology others had constructed to channel the raw power of the Force. He didn't need it, though he himself didn't know that yet._

 _Allowing him into her mind was a dangerous thing, maybe even more so than resisting. But every encounter piqued her interest more. She felt compelled to investigate the man, to get a further sense of what was behind his literal and metaphorical masks._

He shook his head, as if to dispel the thought. He'd read a lot of minds, and never seen anything like this. Even Rey, the startlingly powerful would-be rebel, had seen only his anger, his inner turmoil. She'd seen a monster, Valen saw something else.

He felt like a fool, now, for his treatment of her only a few moments later. Valen could be a powerful ally, assuming she made it out of reconditioning. An ally, and if he played his cards right, perhaps a pleasant diversion.

The dalliances he'd had in recent years had become increasingly unsatisfying and impersonal. Women, even beautiful, _enthusiastic_ women, had ceased to be worth the trouble. Valen was sure to be trouble- Snoke seemed to feel very proprietary about her, for one thing. But her thoughts suggested both possibility and a challenge. Finding a way back into her good graces would both assuage his guilt and occupy him for awhile.

The matter settled, he finally closed his eyes. Tomorrow was a new day, and it was sure to be an interesting one.

* * *

At the end of each "session" Valen was permitted to go to temporary quarters. Her real rooms abutted Snoke's chambers, and until she was thoroughly back under control he wanted to be as far away from her as possible. No leader lived as long as he had without a generous amount of paranoia.

Her original plan, once she realized that she was back in the Order's hands, was to resist until they were forced to kill her. She gambled that Snoke, who viewed her as his personal property, wouldn't permit his men to get truly creative in their persuasion. But on the second night, she was informed that though Snoke declared her mind was to be salvaged at all costs, her body was fair game. Eventually, they were really going to start hurting her.

Or the Supreme Leader was bluffing. His whims were capricious enough that it was hard to know for sure.

Two soldiers and a psych officer walked with her back to her quarters. Her head throbbed in time with their steps and hunger nagged at her. She tried not to be quite so excited to return to her room: being grateful to the Order for a tray of rations and a bed was one step away from being genuinely brainwashed.

When the restraints were removed and the door was closed behind her, she sunk to the ground, back against the door, viciously angry and on the edge of panic. She'd clawed her way up from nothing within the Order to a place of respect and importance. She'd used her influence to dull resistance, to buoy the fanaticism of the Order's followers. She gave them enough time to evacuate from Starkiller Base before the Republic's militants turned it into an asteroid field.

When Valen's breathing was back under control she went to her desk, dispassionately ate, then stretched out on the bed. The room was cold but she lay atop the bedclothes. If she got too comfortable she would fall asleep, and she couldn't fall asleep just yet. She had to think.

* * *

By mid-morning she was back in restraints, and one of the psych officers was in the infirmary. She noticed fewer faces moving through as time wore on. These men were unused to indoctrinating Force sensitives, and no chemical cocktail they'd tried had completely suppressed her abilities. They were likely wondering why Snoke's favorite toy wasn't taking care of this.

"I'll fucking turn you inside out." She snarled at the remaining officer. She couldn't really do that with the Force, but her captor didn't know that.

"Supreme Leader has already said that you will try to make me kill you, but I should resist the temptation. Your life is apparently worth more than mine." The psych officer, one Captain Renata, said dryly, busying herself with the tray of implements.

"Do you enjoy being told how much your life is worth?" Valen asked. Before Renata could answer, the door opened.

It was like all the air was sucked out of the room. In black robes and armor Kylo Ren looked fearsome, but his Force signature- or it's absence- was what was really disturbing.

There were only two other Force users for a lightyear in all directions: she felt Snoke's every move, knew any time he was near, or even sometimes if he thought of her. The fact that Ren could surprise her with his appearance was proof of his power.

Captain Renata, to her credit, managed to not visibly react to the unannounced visit, other than snapping to attention.

"Thank you, Captain. I'll take over for now." He said coolly, his voice sounding distant and mechanical through the mask.

Renata opened her mouth, then closed it again, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder.

"Supreme Leader has been called away by security matters, I am his right hand, and I'm dismissing you."

Renata trembled, still avoiding the black gap where his eyes should have been.

"As you wish." She said, nodding a tiny bow, and turning on her heel. When she was gone Kylo Ren came to stand in front of her, arms behind his back. Valen had straightened up, now she felt her jaw tighten.

"Snoke didn't tell you to come here." She said flatly. "When he returns I'll tell him, and he will _end_ you."

To her surprise he reached up and unlatched his mask. It hissed softly as it depressurized. He put it atop Captain Renata's tray of carefully arranged implements.

"You're right, he didn't tell me to come here. I came because I wanted to." Kylo Ren said, taking off his gloves and sitting them on his helmet. The man had talent, certainly. With a sentence he'd taken her from fear to anger then back again.

"Whatever it is you're up to, reconsider. He already thinks you're unstable. If you disobey..."

Kylo Ren reached out to touch her face but she pulled away, at least as much as she was able. He dropped his hand to his side. The restraints at her wrists and ankles released. She hopped down, vision wavering a bit, but stayed on her feet.

Now that they were both on even ground, Ren's height advantage was even more evident. He looked down at her, something like disappointment on his face. What was he playing at?

"I'm not here to hurt you. I know I've given you no reason to believe me, but..."

"Shut up. Do what you're here to do, Knight of Ren."

He did, indeed, shut up. Her hands had balled into clammy fists, teeth clenched. She wouldn't win, but she would try. Fighting, though futile, would preserve a shred of her dignity.

Kylo Ren recoiled as though she'd struck him. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning away.

"Do my private memories make you _uncomfortable_ , Kylo Ren? Did you see more than you wanted to?" She snarled, shaking with rage.

He looked at her face again, one corner of his mouth turned down. She was surprised to see that he was trembling, as well.

"I regret invading your...privacy. And yes, your memories disturb me. If I'd have known..." He trailed off, then shook his head, frowning. "I can see why you have such a dismal opinion of the First Order. The ancient Sith didn't permit such treatment of women, even prisoners. Even prisoners whose minds they wanted to break."

"Keep your pity." She mumbled, but relief swept over her, so potent her legs almost folded under her.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he turned and dragged a chair noisily over to her. She sat wordlessly, and to her further surprise Ren sat across from her on the tiled floor, long legs folded. His larger stature made him almost at eye level.

"Valen. I'm trying to tell you that it was wrong of me to mistrust you. We have our...ideological differences... but I know now that you spoke the truth. You spared my life, and for that I'm grateful."

Valen wondered if Ren was a liar, trying to manipulate her, or simply prone to mood swings. His face looked earnest enough, but as always his mind was impenetrable. They sat facing each other in silence for a moment. He held her gaze evenly, and Valen was surprised to find herself... enjoying it. When Kylo Ren was neither mortally wounded nor attacking her, he was actually quite pleasant to look at.

"Alright. Apology accepted. Now what?" She asked dryly.

He took a deep breath and blew it out again, surveying the room.

"Now, I will escort you back to your rooms. Your real rooms. If you're going to be confined to quarters they may as well be pleasant ones."

"What about Snoke?" She asked, taken aback.

Ren shrugged.

"When he returns and finds that I've brought you back to your senses, perhaps he'll be less inclined toward _ending_ me."

"Ah. So you _will_ be taking over my 'reconditioning', then." She sighed.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward for the barest instant.

"These idiots might be capable of rehabilitating depressed stormtroopers and misguided recruits, but a powerful and self-possessed Force sensitive is beyond them. I think you require a more nuanced approach."

Something about his tone suggested he wasn't talking about sodium pentathol and sleep deprivation.

"Ah." Valen said, feeling a blush starting. This was an intriguing development. Snoke would probably kill them _both_ when he returned, but if so...there were certainly worse ways to spend her last days on this mortal coil.

Ren stood, and started putting his gloves back on.


	6. Echoes

Luke sat up, his own inarticulate cry ringing in his ears. His gaze snapped around, traveling over the familiar surroundings of "his" quarters on the _Falcon_. Everything was silent and still. Only the glow of instrument panels on the wall provided ambient light.

Luke had chosen to bed down here instead of in the compound. After so long alone even the thought of sleeping in a communal space was anxiety-inducing.

Now, however, he felt utterly trapped, almost panicked. He stood, feeling his joints creaking, threw a cloak on over his sleep clothes and made for the airlock doors.

Outside, the air was humid and heavy. Luke took a few deep breaths, then dropped into a cross legged position on the ramp. He willed his racing pulse to slow, steadied his breathing. What he'd seen had to be important. The idea of mentally returning to that place was disturbing, but it had to be done. This was no nightmare: the Force had granted him a vision.

When he was calm again he reached inward, finding the loose threads of the interrupted dream and following them, backtracking until he found its hazy edges. He let himself sink back into it.

 _Blackness and silence, the stale hot air smelling of dust tinged with rot. He'd come here from halfway across the galaxy, pulled himself away from important business, both political and personal. He had picked a very bad time to abscond... but the entity that called upon him would not be denied._

 _Even now, after countless eons, this place crackled with power. It danced over his skin like electricity. He could taste it on his tongue, coppery like blood. It bore down on him, the weight of all that raw energy, adding to the overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia. Buried under the sand, in the tomb of some long dead Sith Lord, Snoke felt the workings of the Force more clearly than he ever had._

 _There was no knowing if millennia of dark side users had molded the energy of this place, given it the air of palpable menace it had now, or if Korriban had always been a wellspring of white-hot rage. It didn't matter. This place had called to him from across the distance, opened itself to him. If the Sentinel had to die, even if his apprentice went rogue, this place could sustain him._

Luke gasped, his eyes flying open. He shuddered, sweating and fighting the urge to wretch.

He had witnessed Snoke's thoughts, felt the power of the place where he'd gone... Korriban, he called it? And in the last moments of this vision, he'd felt him think of his apprentice.

Snoke had only one apprentice.

He'd felt unease when he thought of him, even anxiety. Luke felt Snoke's thoughts coiling around the idea of Kylo Ren. He was unsure of the younger man's future, had already formulated a plan to neutralize him if necessary.

Luke had made him mind up earlier. He had decided to kill Ren himself if possible. But now, the thought that Snoke was debating the same thing filled him with icy terror.

 _Ben..._

There was something left in him, something that made Snoke question his devotion, and it was the best thing Luke had ever heard. There was something of Ben left in Kylo Ren, and Snoke would kill Ren in order to snuff it out.

 _Ben, please..._

Tears streaming down his face, Luke Skywalker allowed himself to remember the boy who had once been his own apprentice, Leia's son. Tall like Han, with Leia's dark hair. Bright, powerful, but...sad.

Troubled and impatient, Ben had been warm with those he loved but mistrustful of everyone else. He deliberately kept the other students at arm's length. He was arrogant and fearless but somehow also simultaneously self-hating, self-destructive. Luke hated how hard he felt he had to be on Ben. He hated punishing him, sending him to his room like a child, or making him do menial tasks. And the more they clashed the more a wedge was driven between them, opening up a space for Snoke to enter.

Snoke had groomed the boy, propping up his ego while he capitalized on his weaknesses. He manipulated him, told him exactly what he wanted to hear. And nearly everyone who tried to stop Ben from self-destructing ended up dead.

Like Han.

Luke looked up at the night sky, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He wondered if rather than condemning him, Han's sacrifice would ultimately save his son. Han had always felt inadequate when it came to Ben, disconnected from him. He didn't feel the stirrings of the Force, didn't understand the world his son was so thoroughly entrenched in.

Perhaps, after everything, he would succeed where all the Force sensitives in Ben's life had failed.

* * *

It was two days before she heard anything.

In that time Valen slept, ate, meditated, and read. Then she went through all the katas she knew in sequence. Then more sleep, more reading. And quite a lot of conjecture.

It was impossible not to wonder what Kylo Ren was planning. If he had been anyone else it would have been a simple matter. She was the Sentinel, and much of her duties involved knowing exactly what motivated people, and what those motivations would make them do.

On tenterhooks, she analyzed their last interaction in great detail. It had been a strange one, to be sure. His manner had been different. He seemed contrite. That in itself was bizarre. And even if it was genuine it made no difference, the damage had already been done.

Her thoughts had always been her refuge, and to have them forcibly examined was the worst sort of invasion. Valen had hardened herself, donned physical and metaphorical armor, but Ren had found a vulnerability and used it to lay her completely bare.

It was in their training to exploit an enemy's weaknesses. She'd done the same thing when they fought on the command shuttle, and very nearly killed him. He was showing her mercy now, it seemed, because she hadn't finished the job.

During their last conversation she'd also thought she detected a hint of... well, something unexpected. It was possible that she had read too much into his words. She'd been under duress at the time and probably not at her most perceptive. All this, while her opinion of Ren shifted from one extreme to another, then all the way back.

 _"I think you require a more nuanced approach."_ He'd said. Ostensibly he was talking about convincing her to remain alive, sane, and in the First Order. But Kylo Ren's control was iron-clad. Nothing slipped through unless he intended for it to do so. Which meant that the hint of carnal interest she detected in that moment had been a deliberate provocation.

Ren was dangerous on several levels, some more obvious than others. But absurdly, the idea that he might be planning to seduce her back to the "dark side" in a _literal_ sense was, she was discovering, very welcome news. His voice, the grace of his movements, and the workings of his mind- just a few of the things that made him so frightening- also made her pulse pound in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

She couldn't believe how bizarre the situation had become. She'd set out a week ago to either escape or die. Now, after having failed at both, she was locked into some kind of deranged mental tug-o-war with Snoke's prized apprentice. Could she turn the situation to her advantage? Sex was a classic way to manipulate someone, albeit someone who couldn't pry into your every thought. He was certainly trying to manipulate _her_ ; the smug bastard had basically said as much.

She thought out all the angles in the yawning darkness of her quarters, edgy and sleepless.

Finally, on the morning of the third day, two troopers showed up at her door. When she palmed the door panel open they were standing rigidly at attention, nervous and well armed. Their unease made her guess their purpose. No one wanted to deal with her _or_ Kylo Ren; these men were doing both. They must have really pissed Phasma off at some point. Or drawn the shortest straws.

"Sentinel." One of them said, then stopped himself from saluting. She was both a prisoner and the equivalent of an Executive Officer in rank. A situation without a protocol, no doubt. He gestured with the muzzle of his rifle toward the hallway. "No sudden movements. Ah, please."

She regarded him patronizingly for a moment, then walked out in front of them and started down the hallway with deliberate steps. At least they hadn't restrained her.

They exited the hall and entered the bustling command center. Again, personnel had no idea how to acknowledge her so they almost unanimously avoided her eyes, scurrying away.

"I don't know where I'm walking to." She said icily, eyes still forward.

"Supreme Leader's atrium." One of the men behind her responded.

Finding herself before the door in no time (since her and Snoke's quarters were almost conjoined), Valen hesitated. One trooper sidled up alongside her and put a hand up to release the door, purposely keeping himself out of both her and Ren's lines of sight.

Snoke's apprentice was sitting on his heels on the sandy floor of the atrium, hands on his thighs, palms up, eyes closed. He was in the familiar overtunic and tabard, but his hands, face, and feet were bare. He looked over coolly, brown eyes black in the dim light.

"Welcome." He said.

The trooper nearest her put the muzzle of his weapon behind her shoulder and nudged her in, like he was pushing meat into a rancor cage. The door slid closed behind her.

Ren continued to regard her coolly, then stood in one graceful movement.

"Feeling better?" He asked quietly.

Neither of them had moved. Silence stretched out for a few beats. Valen was silently trying to interpret his body language, his gaze- she certainly couldn't feel anything through the Force. Snoke had lined the perimeter of his atrium in desert plants from a half-dozen worlds. So many living things throwing off their individual Force signatures created a vibrant tangle of energy. Kylo Ren was like a ragged hole in that tapestry of life.

"Well enough." She responded smoothly. Using stretches of silence to unnerve the target was a well-worn tactic, and one she was quite effective at herself. She wasn't so easily intimidated.

"Good." He said, then his far hand moved, tossing her something. Valen caught it reflexively. Looking down, she realized it was a basic, utilitarian-looking lightsaber. It had been built from other tech- the casing was recognizably a repurposed minigun barrel- soldered together by a practiced but unfussy welder.

Snoke withheld all knowledge of the weapon. Whether it was to keep her more firmly under his thumb or more focused on his cause was still unknown. She was a competent sniper and a disciplined student of several combat techniques, but the lightsaber had been reserved for the Shadow Hand.

"What is this?" She heard herself say, though she knew already.

"A training saber. Lower power, less lethal." He said, breaking the stalemate by circling casually around her. She ignited her weapon, and a bright white blade sprang to life. The energy of the beam hummed and spluttered faintly, the faint feeling of electricity moved through the hilt and halfway up her arm.

She moved it experimentally, pulse pounding. The blade was weightless, of course, making the weapon totally unlike any other she had used. The hilt had a good heft to it and what felt like a mild gyroscopic effect, stable and balanced despite the lack of counterweight.

"Not that I would recommend letting the blade touch your skin. Or anything else you're fond of." Ren's deep voice made her look up. He was an arm's length away, peering intently at her. She felt the Force stir around her- she'd lost her focus and he had felt it.

Valen sank into a memory: fragments of ancient lightsabers in a museum, halfway mystical relics of a dead Order. Once, their civil war had swallowed the galaxy whole, and scarred Dantooine and her people for ten generations. The Force called to her, a lone child staring at the trappings of the Jedi under glass, and for the first time she knew it for what it was.

"Snoke kept knowledge of the lightsaber from you, then." Ren said. It wasn't a question.

She looked up at him again. His gaze was intense now, eyes slightly narrowed, lips slightly parted. When his attention flickered from her eyes to her mouth, his intentions became a little clearer.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Kylo Ren." She said, finding herself slightly breathless- and totally in his thrall.

His eyes didn't waver.

"You're a powerful woman now, Sentinel. With a better teacher you would be unstoppable. Snoke wants to keep you from your true potential because he fears you. I...don't fear you." He took a step toward her, making no attempt at concealing his attraction to her.

Valen waited until her voice was steady before she responded. She very much wanted what Ren was offering- all the things he was offering. He'd out-played her, at least for the moment. The promise of learning to wield the weapon in her hands, the opportunity to learn from Kylo Ren, was too much.

She would stay with the First Order, if that was what it took.

"What happens when Snoke returns?" She asked. The Supreme Leader's absence was sure to be short-lived.

"That's up to you, Sentinel. It seems I'm throwing myself on your mercy for a second time. You could tell Snoke everything, and sign my death warrant."

It was true. Even if he tried to rat her out first he would be damning himself.

Ren shrugged nonchalantly.

"I hope you won't, of course. But I want you as my ally. If that means handing you all the cards, then so be it."

Valen stood in silence for a moment, listening to her pulse pounding in her ears. Ren stood by calmly, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

"Teach me." She said, finally.


End file.
